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Touched
Chapter 7
Nyota.
Nyota stood in front of the door of Commander Spock's quarters and hesitated.
"Don't over think it, just do it," she commanded herself. She had already been over and over her action plan in her mind. She had chosen to go to his quartes for two reasons. Firstly because she wanted privacy and at his office there was always the risk of interruptions. The second reason was she wanted the apology to be personal, not a cadet apologising to the Commander, but Nyota Uhura apologising to Spock, the person. She had dressed carefully in a long sleeved dark coloured top and skirt; not dressy, not formal but restrained. Gallia had put her hair up in a casual and graceful style. She was a ready as she could be. But still she hesitated.
She took three measured deep breaths. "Screw your courage to the sticking place*," she advised herself, and pressed the door buzzer.
Spock.
Spock was unsettled after the discussion with his mother. He could never fathom how she seemed able to glean so much understanding from so little information. She was disconcerting indeed. And she was right. His course was clear. He realised that, apart from her parting revelation, his mother had not told him anything he did not already know at some level but he had needed to hear it from an external source to gain clarity. His path and priorities were clear although his strategy was not. He showered quickly and settled down to meditate.
When he emerged from his mediation he felt relaxed for the first time since the touch. He was still seated and drifting in the pleasantly open and relaxed state that often followed a deep meditation when his door chimed. He hesitated briefly considering ignoring the summands, then rejected the thought and rose.
He was unprepared for the sight of Cadet Uhura was standing with her head bent looking at the floor as the door whooshed open.
Uhura.
The first thing she saw were his bare feet. Her first thought was like a sigh, "Oh my, even his toes are elegant." Her second thought was, "Oh no! I've screwed up again." Uhura realised she had been so focused on her reasons for coming to his quarters she had not considered that it might be another invasion of his privacy. As her eyes slowly moved up from bare feet, over loose black silky trousers (Pyjamas? Please NO!) which were slung loosely at his hips, over his torso in a the tight fitting black T shirt to his face (Was that slight stubble? And is his hair damp?) it was all that Uhura could do not to turn and run.
Like a mantra she chanted in her head, "Be professional, be professional."
The moment drew out. She looked at him hideously aware that she had succeeded in one of her aims, she was looking at Spock, not Commander Spock teacher and officer, but Spock, the man; and she was not ready for the impact that had on her. He looked younger, more human, somehow exposed and achingly desirable. He did not speak. He seemed frozen in place; totally immobile. Seconds passed and still no one spoke. It was excruciating.
Spock.
The sight of her was totally unexpected. Uhura stood with her head slightly bowed, her long hair was swept up into a twisting style on top of her head leaving the graceful curve of her neck exposed. He was transfixed. He became aware that she was looking at him and as he returned her gaze. A series of emotions flittered across her expressive face. He was not skilled at reading facial expression but his body responded first with heat and an aching clenching sensation in the pit of his stomach and then tension. She was going to leave. He could see the growing panic in her eyes.
He stepped back from the door and gestured for her to enter.
Tbc.
* Quote from Shakespeare's "Lady Macbeth"
Au: Apologies for the somewhat dodgy punctuation. I have reached the end of my punctuation competence *sigh*.